Alwayshere
by Vara
Summary: ...the marquis de Carabas belatedly began to wonder why he had gone to the bother of answering the Upworlder’s call.


**Title:** Alwayshere

**Genre: **Drama, I guess. …I don't seem to write much else.

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer**: The story line is my own and so are many of the elements, but then this is a fanfic so I'm also using things I got from places like "Neverwhere" the novel by Neil Gaiman, and probably a few other sources before I'm done. I do not make any money from other people's copyrighted work.

**Authoress's note: **The marquis de Carabas is my fav char from the novel and this last time I read it I really paid attention to every scrap of info given about him both directly and indirectly. I'm not promising he'll be "in character", me not being Neil Gaiman and all _shrugs_ but I have tried to keep him consistent.

I did a bit of research, some for this fic and some for my own curiosity. The 'Priestesses' are based on historical fact, though I have added a good deal to them and consider this portrayal of them to be my own invention. In a similar way I added to the actual fact that many of the Celtic knot designs so popular in jewellery and such do in fact have meanings. And the thing the Marquis says about the birds is part of an ancient Celtic legend which is deeply tied with the Priestesses of the White Horse. If you want to know exactly what bits I made up and which I got from legends/historic accounts then e-mail me.

* * *

This fic picks up with a tiny bit of a recap of Neil Gaiman's ending to _Neverwhere,_ a sort of paraphrasing really- just to get things started.

* * *

He straightened from leaning against the edge of the temporary doorway. "Well, are you coming?" Without waiting for more of a response than a nod of the dark-brown head, the marquis de Carabas turned and stepped through the brick wall. Without looking back.

For the span of one heartbeat, after the door ended, the marquis considered that he may actually have been wrong. Then he heard the uncertain scuffing of one sneaker-clad foot behind him and turned with his most self-satisfied and most disturbing smirk and pretended not to care that the Upworlder had chosen to follow him.

Richard looked away from the dark eyes of the marquis and then around the small chamber, really it was just the intersection of three tunnels and there wasn't much to feign interest in. He pulled the strap of his duffle bag over his left shoulder. "Where's Door?"

"She had other business." The marquis de Carabas answered smoothly, but not the question he knew Richard had meant to ask; Richard had meant to ask why Door was no longer there, his answer to that question however would have been the same. "Do try to follow close," the marquis cautioned before heading into the tunnel in the left wall of the chamber.

Richard managed to remain silent for nearly two hours; only the marquis knew that they were _both_ impressed by his show of self-control and the marquis kept his own opinions to himself. "So, how much longer do we have to walk until we get to wherever we're supposed to meet Door?"

Taking another flare from one of the inner pockets of his second-favourite overcoat –a large black Victorian thing, the marquis de Carabas belatedly began to wonder why he had gone to the bother of answering the Upworlder's call. He certainly didn't need a servant and 'The Warrior' wasn't exactly what anyone interested in acquiring a warrior was looking for; Richard Mayhew by _any_ title that The Underground saw fit to give him still couldn't be relied upon to remain alive and in fairly good order if left alone for more than a day, at best. So what had he gotten himself?

"I mean," continued Richard, "not that this isn't a nice sewer passage, so nearly dry and all, and that quick jaunt through those uh, ruins, I'm sure they would be quite lovely with a little less light and without that smell, but I'm hungry and tired and I have been awake for a good deal longer than I usually care to be awake for."

The Third Ordeal, the several times he had been hurt, Hunter's betrayal, killing The Beast…Richard Mayhew had been changed by his time in the Underground but he was still Richard Mayhew at heart and, for reasons that he wasn't willing to think out at the moment, the marquis was glad of that. He had intentionally taken a more circuitous route than was strictly necessary, but he wanted to show Richard the painting above the large stone gateway of the main passage. In the sickly yellow light of his flare the lone figure shone obviously and powerfully; a stylised white horse its single eye watchful as it ran.

"What is it?" Richard asked a bit crossly as he shifted his duffle bag to the other shoulder.

"A white horse." The marquis said it as though he were addressing a particularly slow child.

Richard looked up at the image for several moments then tilted his head to one side. He squinted and tilted his head to the other side. "You're sure it isn't a cat?"

The marquis spoke softly as though conveying sacred knowledge. "For more than one thousand years that symbol has alerted all who dared pass, that they were entering the territory of The Priestesses of The White Horse." In the dark the marquis' smirk became a grin when Richard made a sound that implied he wished it to be believed that he understood. But in his mind the marquis was turning over the fact that there was something he was forgetting, which was nearly as bad as not knowing it in the first place except that if he had known it once then he would probably remember it later so he pushed it aside for the moment.

Without further comment the marquis continued through the portal into an arch-roofed hall where long stretches of blank stone separated closed doors that were covered in ornate ironwork shaped into various Celtic knots and unless you could read them, every knot on every door looked very much the same. After passing several doors the marquis held out one hand to stop Richard and silently pointed down the hall as a pale woman came out of a door, she was far enough away that the light of the flare in the marquis' hand barely touched her dove-grey hooded cloak, without a light she moved down the hall away from them and disappeared like a phantom into the dark.

Glancing over, the marquis could tell that Richard was less than certain of what he had seen. "She is one of their order, they rarely use lights this close to the borders of their land. It is also their rule that Novices do not speak with outsiders. The Priestesses can however be very hospitable."

"Does that mean food?" Richard looked as though he was trying to not hope too much.

The marquis hesitated before carefully nodding. "And a place to spend the night." What was bothering him was that aside from the fact that the Priestesses of the White Horse would provide them with protection, lodging, and food for a short time, he wasn't sure why he had brought the Upworlder here.

All of the women they glimpsed, with increasing frequency, from then on were pale and covered in several layers of light flowing robes and cloaks. Far in the distance a flicker of light crossed the hall and disappeared behind a door. By the time they got close to where it had been it was impossible to tell exactly which door she had used; space and distance were slightly confused by the lack of obvious differences in the things that they passed.

The half remembered whatever-it-was that had bothered the marquis earlier was now more urgently gnawing at him, he was certain that it was something he had never actually been told himself but was instead something he had overheard…

Novices carrying small torches or large candles occasionally slipped past the marquis and Richard now, some were carrying baskets, bundles and folded things while others were not. All seemed to know exactly where they were headed and ignored the two male intruders completely.

Finding the design-like inscription he had been looking for the marquis de Carabas casually leaned against the wall beside the door with his weight resting on his shoulders. He was provided with a time-passing distraction as Richard attempted to emulate his total lack of nervous unease; Richard as it turned out was a remarkably poor mimic. The flare was dying, he would have to get them into the deeper, lighted, recesses of the complex before it ran out completely. The marquis half remembered that there was something about the inner levels of the realm of the Priestesses of the White Horse, something he had overheard someone talking about. The door beside him was suddenly opened from the other side and the marquis grabbed Richard's sleeve to half drag him through before the heavy wooden door closed again.

Richard's sleeve slipped from his fingers when the other man suddenly stopped walking. It wasn't the fact that Richard demanded he stop that caused him to turn back, even though anyone demanding anything of him was highly unusual, it was the choked quality that Richard's voice had when he called out that made the marquis turn.

Though the flare was sputtering out the hall they were now in was dimly lit by small candelabra style wall sconces. In spite of that Richard stood stiffly rigid with his eyes wide and his hands waving erratically about as if he were swatting imaginary insects he was obviously frightened and when he spoke again it was in a tight almost desperate whisper. "De Carabas! Marquis? Are you still there?"

Taking a step closer to Richard the marquis slowly passed one hand in front of the other man's face, the hazel eyes remained wide and unfocused. Purposely allowing Richard to accidentally touch his outstretched hand the marquis' brow furrowed when Richard violently flinched back with a gasp. The light was low, but he could see well enough. "I'm right here." Richard flinched again then reached in the direction of his voice. "Mind the flame," using his free hand the marquis caught hold of Richard's left hand before it came into contact with the flare even though it was now more smoke than spark.

"Flame." Richard calmed but looked somehow more pale. "The flare is still burning. Isn't it." Not really a question.

Apparently some things were too obvious for even the Upworlder, mused the marquis with detached irony. He jerked his head back to keep from having Richard jab his eyes as the other man flailed about, blindly- "Richard, you've been cursed." Door had been right; he wasn't very good at comforting, the marquis acknowledged this to himself as Richard began to hyperventilate. He tried again. "The inner passages of the territory of the Priestesses are defended by a curse which blinds any strangers who pass their outer gates."

"Wait…" Richard's face showed his mental progress from scared to confused before settling on disbelief. "What was that?"

The marquis decided, in his view rather generously, to overlook Richard's ambiguously worded question. "I can't really remember all of the details but I'm fairly certain that there is a way to reverse or dispel it," he offered.

"You are not saying that you just _forgot_ about the _detail_ of me being struck blind before you brought me here." Richard may not have been able to imitate relaxed disinterest but he was brilliant at portraying denial.

"Come on," the marquis pulled on the left wrist which he still held, Richard stumbled. The marquis bit back on his frustration, this was really his own fault if he had remembered sooner…they still would have needed a place to stay while he figured out what to do. "We'll never get anywhere if you insist on doing that."

Wrenching his arm free Richard snarled in the marquis' direction, "Well excuse me for not handling this properly, it _is_ my first time being cursed you know."

He really had meant to say it more gently, Richard's sarcasm surprised him. "I, we have to get to the Sanctuary Stables before we'll find someone who has authority to speak with outsiders it'll take less time if you walk quicker."

"Stables!" Richard exploded. Calming suddenly he nodded his head, "Right the whole 'White Horse' thing. So exactly how am I supposed to run about in here- I can't bloody see!"

The marquis spoke as he approached the irate man. "I will lead you." Richard's expression of unguarded scepticism was something the marquis attributed to the fact that the Upworlder couldn't see him. "You're right to not trust me Richard Mayhew," he placed a hand on Richard's shoulder and the sightless hazel eyes automatically focused on him. "I won't run you into anything. You'll have to just, trust me."

The marquis' grin was conveyed in his voice well enough that Richard swallowed and looked away before mutely nodding.

Taking Richard by the upper arm the marquis set out at a fast walk keeping Richard between himself and the wall as he hurried to find the door that would take them into the deeper passages. For the next half hour or so the only noises were his warnings whenever they had to dodge around an opening door and the sound of Richard's fingers brushing the rough stone of the wall.

In his mind the marquis was questioning himself, what was he going to do when their stay here was over? Coming to the relative safety of the Priestesses of the White Horse hadn't been decided on with much forethought had it? It was just the safest place he could come up with at the time, truthfully, it was **still** the safest place he could think of and he bloody well needed time to think. Why had he answered the Upworlder's call and what in the Underground had he gotten himself by doing so!

Two more doors, each leading to increasingly well lit and more heavily populated corridors then the third door the marquis opened revealed the first open space that they had encountered since entering the realm of the Priestesses. In the flickering light of many small torches placed along the walls he could see that the floor was flat stone with dirt and scattered with straw and along the wall facing them was a long row of what looked like horse stalls. The Marquis headed straight for the nearest vacant stall.

Richard had become too exhausted to stay angry or on his guard as he followed the marquis' directions for what he was sure were a great many hours while they travelled in an endless maze. When he thought he could just hear the roar of the Beast all he had to do was reach his hand out to touch the clean stone wall beside him and the feeling that he was back in that filthy prison of a labyrinth dissolved. The marquis opened another door, they were crossing a floor that felt gritty and his tired feet shuffled though something that felt like grass that had been left behind after the lawn had been mown. The next door the marquis opened sounded different from the others, when the marquis pressed his shoulder down he crouched and there was a bed and it was soft and he slept.

The Marquis shrugged off his coat and dropped it over Richard; it was an odd coat and made an even odder blanket. He pulled some of the hay from the foot of the bed Richard was sleeping on took it to the back corner next to the head of the bed and tossed it down for a cushion to sit on. He wanted to not sleep and for the last few months had been fighting his own need for rest, the dark and the feeling of being so cold and alone still haunted his dreams when he did sleep.

Through the slats of the gate he glimpsed a familiar face as a group of pale women entered the large chamber. Quietly leaving the stall he approached the group.

At the marquis' approach the Priestess dismissed the Novices whom she had been instructing. "Welcome, marquis de Carabas." She greeted him serenely.

He bowed his head to the Priestess and addressed her with quiet respect. "Rhianon, I am again a beggar of your—"

She interrupted him with a soft laugh. "You are free to take whatever you have come to find, all are welcome in the Sanctuary Stables. We seek no recompense from you; being permitted to aid those in need is all we ask." With a slight smile she chided gently, "You know this is so."

The marquis lowered his head as a sign of acceptance. Glancing in the direction of the stall he had just exited he indicated with a tilt of his head and slight motion of one hand that he wished her to accompany him. Standing to one side he allowed her to look in over the gate.

"Oh," she murmured. "The poor thing, you've let him go blind. Have no worry he is strong, stronger than he believes himself to be. The veil will pass from his eyes when it no longer clouds his sight."

The marquis spoke slowly as he imitated the formality and cadence of the speech of the Priestess. "Your kind are known for their truth and generosity, Rhianon, I will heed your words, though it is my own sight for which I fear most."

With pale fingers she pushed a lock of her long platinum-blonde hair behind one ear as she smiled at him. "Marquis, have you no understanding as to the nature of what it is you have got?" Her laugh was not cruel or mocking. "Then do stay until your eyes too are clear. An Epa shall bring you food and drink when you are rested." She walked away without words of parting.

Settling himself back down on his cushion of hay the marquis crossed his legs leaned his head back into the corner of the stall and remained still for several minutes. Opening his eyes suddenly he leaned forward and pulled a dull silver pocket watch from his coat without waking the sleeping figure huddled under it. Flicking open the lid he glanced at the time before returning it to its pocket again. He had been responsible for the Upworlder for less than five hours and how had things gone so far—he had blinded the Warrior! Closing his eyes again the marquis pinched the bridge of his nose and silently began cursing himself, when he had run out of words he switched to another language of London Below and then another until he fell asleep.

The marquis came awake suddenly but showed no outward sign; there were other people nearby and no matter how hard his heart was beating or how cold he felt nothing would give him away before he could tell what their intentions were. A moment later he felt like a fool for being so cautious when it was only Richard and a woman, he listened to them talk for a while out of sheer desire to think about something other than his nightmares.

There was a softness in the woman's voice as she answered something Richard had asked before the marquis had woken. "I am an Epa of the level Aden Lonach, my name is Sapheth."

About to startle them with a witty comment the marquis thought better of it when he realised how Richard would most likely react, instead he stretched and yawned loudly enough to be heard but quietly enough that Richard did not fly into a panic. "I've overslept," he complained, judging by her smile Sapheth was not fooled.

"I am pleased that you found rest, in part at least. When you wish more food or drink I will bring it." Sapheth smiled at the marquis then gently touched Richards arm. Beside a pitcher of water the Epa set down a shallow rectangular basket that was covered by a white cloth then she left.

Looking through the food in the basket the marquis listed off the items so Richard could choose something. "For breakfast we have honeyed oat cakes, lots of alfalfa, pale yellow carrots, apples those sweet red ones shaped like bell peppers—"

"What does she look like?"

Richard's question caught the marquis off guard and he halted in mid-sentence. "What, the Epa you mean?"

"Sapheth, yes." Richard succeeded in looking very nearly at the marquis as he spoke. "I mean, I've just been talking to her for ten minutes and I don't even know what colour her hair is."

"Her hair is dark almost black." He wasn't really sure why he was describing the woman to Richard but he went on anyway. "Almost black but with a silver sheen like a reflection of moonlight. She wears it down and it reaches to her waist. Her skin is dark but pale and her eyes are a deep warm brown with gold flecks and she is almost as tall as you." Richard asked an entirely irrelevant question next and the marquis felt himself relax slightly.

"What did she mean by 'level'?"

"There are three levels of Epa; Aden Lanach, Aden Lonach, and Aden Fwynach, each level requires a deeper understanding of and sympathy for the poor wretches who come seeking their aid. The three levels are named for three legendary birds who sang so beautifully that flowers would bloom as they flew past." The marquis reached out to assist Richard as he tried to pull the overcoat around his shoulders.

"I'm blind," Richard snapped, "not an invalid."

"You're _Cursed_," the marquis corrected icily while standing up again. "Feeling sorry for your self won't help. And it's my bloody coat to begin with." With the squared toe of one boot he shoved the basket of food closer to Richard's cot. Before closing the stall door he turned back to snatch his watch from the breast pocket of his coat, Richard flinched as though he were afraid that the marquis had turned back to hit him. "I'll be back in an hour or so. If you go out don't leave my coat behind."

The marquis walked the corridors and passageways around the Sanctuary Stables without really going anywhere. He rubbed the slightly battered cover of the pocket watch with a thumb as he walked. Richard's reaction to his attempt to help had stung. But then it was his fault that Richard was Cursed. Richard would have been better off in London Above where the most dangerous thing he could worry about was high cholesterol. But he just had to go bring the Upworlder back.

He swung the watch by it's chain then juggled it back and forth between his fingers, gradually he relaxed and as his self-recriminations became quieter he was able to think more productively. The most obvious question was, why was he himself not currently blind? He had been here before and hadn't been struck blind then either. Thinking back to the first time he had come to the Priestesses of the White Horse the marquis tried to remember every door he had passed through, had he gone a different route, some route that perhaps hadn't been protected by the Curse? Swinging the watch by it's chain, less violently this time, he shook his head, no his path this time had been exactly the same as before.

Well, the marquis asked himself, what did he know about the curse? After a long pause in his internal monologue he realised that the most definite thing he had ever heard about it, aside from the basic fact that it existed, was what Rhianon had told him earlier that day, _'The veil will pass from his eyes when it no longer clouds his sight,'_. Turning over her exact words he hissed a frustrated breath between his teeth, Richard would see again when he could see! What sort of help was that supposed to be? The marquis stopped himself, not _see_ Rhianon had said _sight_ which is what happens when you see. It was Richard's _sight_ that was being obscured. The 'veil' was obviously the Curse… His own dark eyes widened momentarily as he realised what it meant.

Running back down the hall the marquis made a shortcut through a room which held nothing but a lantern hung above a long stone trough filled with cold clear water. At the far end of the room he darted through another door and into a hall, moments later he flung open the door to the cavernous chamber that held the Sanctuary Stables just in time to hear Richard's last words.

"No I haven't got anything to say. I'm just not going to let you touch her again, that's all."

The marquis watched not really able to comprehend what was happening before him as Richard stepped between the unconscious body of a young woman dressed in the wispy layered clothing of a Novice and a man whom Richard probably would not have been defying if he had been able to see.

The much taller man apparently felt that leather and spikes provided a nice contrast for large amounts of muscle covered in wicked looking scar tissue.

Richard on the other hand was wearing the marquis' overcoat which hung loosely on his smaller frame in deep folds of dark material. The sleeves of the marquis' coat were a bit too long and with his arms down at his sides Richard's fingers were visible below the cuffs until he clenched them into fists.

The marquis knew there was no way he could get to the far end of the Sanctuary Stables fast enough. When Richard drew his hands up into the sleeves of his coat the marquis realised that Richard was going to fight the man and was unable to breathe.

Sharp metal spikes and shiny metal studs gleamed in the torchlight and the oversized coat billowed as the two combatants moved toward each other.

The man shifted one foot as he drew a blade from one of his leather forearm guards and in the same motion brought it out and down through Richard's chest. But Richard had stepped forward and ducked to one side, the blade passed through empty air and Richard was suddenly too close for the other man to make another wide sweep with his blade.

Another exchange of movements happened too fast and somehow Richard was between the other man's knife and chest. The man tried to draw his knife diagonally inward while turning the tip to catch Richard in the back. Richard in turn brought his left elbow up and back to redirect the path of the blade and twisted his body as his other fist solidly connected with the man's abdomen just below his ribcage forcing the air from his lungs.

A single sharp noise, Rhianon clapping her hands once, ended the fight.

The marquis released the edge of the door and ran the length of the chamber to where Richard was standing rigidly with his fists still clenched.

Rhianon's voice was low and her words indistinct to all but the man she addressed but the power and menace behind her words was clear. Silently a group of Novices rushed forward with a litter to carry their sister from the chamber.

The marquis was barely aware of any of this as he drew close enough to see that Richard was trembling. "Richard?" Nothing. Carefully he took another step closer, "Richard, can you hear me?" He wanted to believe that the tremors were merely the result of adrenalin withdraw but the fight he had witnessed brought it to his mind much more clearly than it had ever been before that Richard was not just a poor disenchanted Upworlder he was also _the Warrior_. "Richard?"

"The girl," Richard asked the half question with a shuddering breath.

"Others of her order are taking care of her," the marquis reassured softly. "Richard?"

Richard blinked. "Marquis."

"I'm here," lightly he touched Richard's shoulder as he spoke, "Did he cut you?" He couldn't see any blood or obvious tears in the overcoat, as he looked again more carefully he saw that the hand Richard had used to deflect the man's attempt to slice his back held the knife Hunter had given him. The marquis thought back and suddenly understood why Richard was so rattled; he had been able to draw his knife and if Rhianon hadn't stopped them at that instant he would have been in position to kill the other man. "Richard, give me the knife."

Richard's hand spasmodically tightened on the knife's hilt otherwise he gave no response.

"I told you before," the marquis murmured in a vaguely hypnotic drone, "you were right to not trust me…but you needed to trust me anyway. You need to trust me now." As he spoke he placed his other hand on Richard's left shoulder and lightly kneaded the tense muscles there.

"You, left me." Richard's voice was too flat, he was in shock.

The marquis allowed a few breathes to pass before he quietly responded, he spent the time rubbing a little lower on Richard's left arm. "I won't leave you again, Richard. I try rather hard to avoid making the same mistake twice." The muscles in Richard's arms continued to relax slowly and the marquis stroked lower, the knife was held more loosely now. "Richard…let me take the knife."

Richard blinked but allowed the marquis to take the weapon from his hand.

The marquis tucked the blade into his boot before allowing himself to relax again. Richard had been ready to kill and in his current state of shock might have done so without realising it; Warriors -like Hunters- are what they are because they kill, the marquis mused darkly. Not to mention the fact that he was already angry with me and had more than enough of a reason to get revenge for allowing him to be Cursed, the marquis flinched at his own thoughts. When he looked around the chamber he suddenly became aware that a crowd had gathered, he began coaxing Richard back down the chamber to their stall.

It had taken the marquis more than an hour to get Richard to relax enough that he began to come out of shock, and then Richard had insisted on having an emotional outburst over the fact that he had been so close to killing a man. The marquis decided not to point out that the 'man' in question had been perfectly willing to kill Richard in order to be free to hurt the Novice who had been merely bringing food and water. He even dredged up the patience to let Richard curl up on his side and cry himself to sleep.

The marquis checked his pocket watch again. Time seemed to be playing a malicious prank on him it was slowing in direct proportion to how many times he checked the foolish watch. Again he clicked the lid closed. Again he checked to make sure that it was properly wound and again he dangled the old watch before Richard's mouth and nose to make sure that Richard was sleeping and not dead. Then he returned to his mound of hay in the corner.

"Did it fog up?" Richard asked without moving.

The marquis looked up with a start. "Yes. How long have you been awake?"

Still lying on his side Richard managed a sort of one-shouldered shrug. His voice was soft and his words slurred slightly, his accent showed just around the edges. "Fell asleep fer a while 'tween las' time you checked an' now." Without much concern apparent in his voice Richard asked, "Do you really think I'll stop breathing?"

The marquis' hands sort of dangled from wrists braced on top of his drawn-up knees. He was exhausted. The pocket watch wasn't so much a distraction as it was something for him to look at, the chain was wrapped around one of his fingers and he idly swung it in a shallow arc. After a long silence and very quietly he answered, "It would be the sort of thing that tends to happen to me."

Richard did not say anything. Carefully he pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked exactly as though he were trying to see something in the corner where the marquis sat.

The marquis looked back down at his watch. "I think I figured out how to break the Curse," he made the announcement softly.

Richard did not speak. Instead he pushed himself all the way into an official sitting position complete with both sneakers on the floor.

The marquis did not look up this time. He had known it was a poor token to offer after everything that had happened but being able to undo the Curse was also all that he had to offer. When it became obvious that Richard was not going to speak he explained the solution and how he had arrived at it. "The Curse works on perception, not ability. The first time I came here I knew what to expect, I knew the symbols to look for on the doors and I knew what the halls were like. I had even gotten someone to describe the passages around the Sanctuary Stables to me. The reason you can't see is that you don't know what it looks like, once you do the Curse can't make you blind."

Richard finally spoke. "If that's true, then why couldn't I see you?"

Richard's simple observation cut the marquis' last string. As if he were a marionette, his head dropped forward, he could think of nothing to say. Of course Richard had seen him before, had seen him just two days ago for that matter. He opened his mouth but not even a cliché came out. He was too tired. That must be why he had missed it. He hadn't slept properly since he'd _come back_. He had thought it was such a nice solution too, it had seemed to work out so conveniently.

Richard scooted along the edge of the cot closer to the marquis. "Door, isn't coming is she."

The marquis looked to one side then remembered that Richard couldn't see him anyway and forced himself to meet the other man's hazel eyes. He decided to up the ante; what more could he loose? "That's not really what you want to know."

"You came for me." Richard continued and squinted slightly.

The marquis continued to swing his watch but was no longer looking at it. He knew how to play 'Unconcerned' and he knew how to play 'Antagonist' he even knew how to play 'Reluctant Antagonist' but he didn't know the rules to this new game they seemed to be playing and that made him cautious. "Yes," he said, then waited for the next round.

"You call yourself 'the marquis de Carabas'," Richard said slowly, as though he might loose his way. "Everyone calls you that but it's not really a name, it's a title. It's the false title Puss called the miller's youngest son in the nursery story Puss in Boots." Richard rested his own arms on his knees and leaned forward slightly. "You're your own cat."

The marquis swallowed. Would it break the rules of this game if he talked above a whisper? What if he continued to answer honestly? But then, Richard wasn't really asking questions…was he? "What are you after," his words had an edge to them that he wished they hadn't and he swallowed again. Richard looked down for a moment then reached out and caught the swinging watch. He held his breath and Richard looked up again, this time meeting his eyes squarely.

Richard's eyes were clear and focused. "I think you're right about the Curse."

"What do you see?" He wasn't sure that he wanted to know but the question asked itself anyway.

Letting go of the watch Richard looked slightly uncomfortable now. "I…I think I see you, not your mask," he shrugged, "just you." Carefully taking the watch from the marquis' fingers he put it back in its proper pocket and stood to take the large coat off. "I can't really see much of anything else, maybe tomorrow you can describe it all to me?"

The marquis hadn't moved. He stared up at Richard while his mind felt like it was trying to swim through glue. "Are…you…offering me your forgiveness?"

Richard's brow wrinkled as he took the time to seriously think about the question and the implications of any answer he might give. His head absently nodded before he actually spoke and when he did speak he sounded mildly surprised at himself. "Yes, I rather think I am."

He closed his eyes for an instant to immerse himself in the idea, but as much as he knew how such things worked the marquis reluctantly forced himself to speak. "What would you ask in return?"

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" Richard countered.

The marquis shook his head and knew that Richard would easily read his nightmares in his eyes.

"I think I know how to break that too," Richard said as he sat on the edge of the cot and unlaced his shoes enough to take them off. "Take off your boots." When the marquis did not respond Richard looked up. "I think you can't sleep for the same reason I couldn't stay away."

Dully he observed that he had started untying the heavy boots on his own feet in response to Richard's prompting. Whatever was happening he had to go along, he would pay whatever Richard asked for the young man's forgiveness. He had to.

"There isn't much room, so I guess we'll just have to sleep on our sides. But if you could fall asleep in the corner then I guess you're too tired to care about that." Richard lay down on the hay mattress and rolled onto his side facing away from the marquis.

Standing with bare feet on the cold stone floor the marquis tried to understand what Richard had said. "You want me to sleep…with you…on the bed?" How in the Underground was a soft comfortable bed a penance?

"I'm not sleeping in the corner so you can have the bed to yourself," Richard tossed over his shoulder as he pulled the marquis' coat over him like a blanket. "And you obviously haven't been sleeping all that well in the corner yourself. The easy solution is to just share the bed. You don't toss about much do you?"

"You aren't going to ask anything of me," the marquis questioned as he slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the cot.

Richard had wrapped one arm around his face to keep the straw away, when he spoke his voice was muffled. "Did you trade the favour Door owed you…for me?"

The marquis drew a breath. "Yes." A chill went through him as he admitted the blunt fact that he had done exactly that.

"Does that mean—" Richard held himself very still as he tried to find the right way to ask for what he wanted to know, the fact that he was being so careful made the marquis nervous. "According to the Underground—whatever rules there are here—does that mean, you own me?"

"It means I am responsible for you. They aren't really the same thing." He only hoped Richard could see the difference. When Richard didn't move or speak for several minutes the marquis carefully lay himself down on the edge of the cot. There really wasn't much room, he felt Richard's back pressed against his own and when Richard spoke he could feel the intake of breath and the slight vibration of his words.

"When I returned to London Above, I was alone. In a crowded pub I was completely alone."

One of the last conscious thoughts to skitter though the marquis' mind before he fell asleep was that Richard was right, the aloneness had been the hardest thing. The warmth at his back was constant, even asleep he would feel it and know that he was not alone.

As Rhianon had said it would the veil at last fell from his own eyes. The answer to the question of what he had gotten himself was impossibly simple. He had gotten himself someone who didn't want to use him or gain by him, he had gotten someone to whom he himself was enough.


End file.
